First Time For Everything
by Snartz
Summary: Slave AU: This fic takes place in the Tevinter Imperium, specifically Minrathous, and follows the story of an outcast and his Dalish slave as they struggle to survive The Game, Venatori rebels, and an emerging revolution. Slow Build. Dorian/Lavellan
1. Chapter 1

Dorian Pavus was many things.

An Altus, gifted with magic at an early age that made him all the envy of his peers.

A dedicated scholar, his studies at the Vyrantium circle as well as his sponsor Gereon Alexius, saw to it that he was well versed in a variety of subjects ranging from the grand history of the Imperium to the greatest wonders of the Arcane arts.

But this..

He had never been one for political issues. He preferred to skirt around that subject when possible, only making his stance known when asked. Dorian had opinions, he made that blindingly obvious. But opinions were things that reflected. Bouncing off barriers and dropping into the dirt. They only mattered when striking bone, and so he held his tongue more often than naught. Preferring a raised eyebrow or perhaps the turn of his back. Some things were best not addressed after-all, and others were not even worth a mere glimpse.

How was one to address such a topic they had not even the faintest thought of?

He offered a forced smile, biting back his inner monologue to meet his father's gaze. "Presumably, you believed this would benefit me? Would somehow provide-" Dorian waved his hand, gesturing vaguely in order to coax the Magister to continue.

"Power. It is a show of class, Dorian. I am well aware that you have pushed off such things to focus more on your studies and I praise you, my son, for doing so. But there are moments in which one must cease being a pariah. Where one must join the ranks." Halward smoothed a hand down an arm of his intricate robes, brushing off the invisible dust that had apparently gathered there. "I believe that day has arrived."

The younger man shifted his weight in the chair, organizing his tomes in order to draw out his response. He certainly did not need his father parading him around further.

The smile slipped off his face to reveal a grimace, fingers sliding over the deeply stained wood.

"Father-" Spitting the word as if it poisoned his tongue "I will not put on a charade. I have no need for such _pleasantries_." Dorian ran his tongue over his teeth as if they had become bitter were they sat nestled in his gums.

Pushing back the chair, Dorian raised himself to comment further on the distasteful nature of the very topic, but Halward shot him with a look that stuttered his movements.

"_Dorian_. This is not open for debate. You _will_ accept this gift from her. You _will_ be polite about such matters, and you _will_ graciously thank her for her kindness." Choking back his displeasure, Dorian reluctantly nodded.

Casting his eyes elsewhere, he reminded himself that he was not prepared to make his leave just yet. He needed more coin before he ventured out on his own. In the worst case scenario, he could sell his birthright amulet, but the thought of doing so made his innards clench.

One lunar cycle and he would be free.

The thought swelled in his skull, ideas of freedom filling him to burst, only bringing him back to earth when a hand landed heavily on his shoulder.

"She sent your gift to your quarters should you wish to see it. Do send her your thanks, Dorian. I will not ask this of you again." With that said, Magister Halward exited the library with a flourish that was obviously practiced and second nature.

Grateful for this moment of peace, Dorian carded his fingers through his hair in frustration.

_"Father, why must we continue to play this sorry excuse for a game?"_

Silence was the only thing that answered, leaving him pushing past the doors and up the torturous stairs to his chambers. Palm trailing up the extravagant railing as he climbed the stairs, Dorian could only mutter sharp curses beneath his breath.

Abelia Villius.

Niece to the Archon and only thrice removed.

She was adequate.

Beautiful in the sense that she wore her mask well enough. Hair pinned and strung with threads of gold, her skin a light olive that complimented rather nicely with deep set hazel was a woman well sought after.

One many were scrambling to gain favor of and yet she turned her gaze on him. He ventured to guess that no amount of luck could have hidden his incredibly handsome face for long.

A favor for a favor.

Dorian knew very well that she was waiting for a gift in return. A amulet forged by a Paragon in Orzammar. Or perhaps fine Antivan silks embroidered by virginal elven maidens. The thought had him snickering as he climbed the last stair, unfortunately putting him directly in front of his door.

Abelia was rather fond of Orlesian finery.

Maybe she had requested a hat tailored for him? Surely a plumage upon his head would be the worse she could possibly do.

Unlatching the door Dorian found himself, for once in his life, speechless.

He had been completely wrong, the woman could do worse.

What greeted him was certainly not a hat, but a young man.

A young _elven_ man, to be exact sitting on his lavish bed and thumbing through what looked to be his notes on The Dreamers.

"I beg your pardon, but perhaps you may be in the wrong room?" Dorian alerted the man hoping that his first assumptions had been false.

"This is Lord Pavus' chambers, is it not? I was sent here by Lady Villius." The leather bound book snapped shut and was placed upon his nightstand thoughtfully before their eyes met.

The unamused gaze had Dorian breaking out into a flashy show of censure.

"Oh? What would _Lord Pavus_ say if he caught you rifling through his things? I dare say, that he would be most displeased with your actions. His items and privacy are of great importance to him. Both of which you have defiled. I wonder what he might say.." Dorian trailed off.

The gesturing of his hands paired with the look of superiority he hoped radiated of his face were more than enough to make the man jump from his spot on the bed and snap into an almost military stance.

_Oh this would be fun._

Dorian circled the other man, biting his tongue roughly so as not to give away his ruse.

"Now, I ask you once more, why are you here?"

"_Ser_, I am here for the same reason as I have previously explained." The snark filled comment actually had Dorian quite pleased to see that he was not the only one to have a sharpened tongue within the estate.

"Lady Villius believed that I would suit Master Pavus' needs more so than her's. Thus, I was informed of my duty and once I had arrived I was directed by Magister Pavus to wait here until I was called upon. He told me to expect such games, _Master Pavus_." He caught Dorian's eyes once more, the sudden quirk of his brow a tall tale sign that he had noticed the Tevinter's wondering gaze.

He turned on his unclad heel to look at the taller man more clearly.

"I was hoping it would not come to this, but I see that this situation calls for such actions." The elven man reached for his own belt, the sound of it unbuckling had Dorian's fingers fluttering against his palms.

Surely Lady Abelia had not noticed his…preference. Had believed the charade his father had shrouded him in. The mask had not slipped. Not once. There had been no wandering eyes. No hidden innuendos, and yet he was being accosted in his own chambers.

The situation was not all negative, mind you.

The man was quite strapping. Dare he say, alluring. The sharp cheek bones and the deep ochre of his skin left his fingertips itching to trace the defined features. Cat like eyes framed with short thick lashes analyzed his every move, staring not just at him but through him, leaving Dorian feeling as if each intake of breath was being scrutinized and filed away for later. Thin lips pursed together in thought, chapped but still incredibly tempting as the elf finally removed the leather strap and took a few steps towards him.

Perhaps this is what he needed.

A dalliance would allow him to release his pent-up frustrations.

While he had never been with an elf, especially not one whom had once been Dalish if the tattoos that swirled about his handsome face had any significance, he was well familiar with the pleasures the company of a male form could offer.

Just as he raised his hand to release the brunette strands from the tight plait at the nape of the man's neck, he was interrupted with a letter being placed into his outstretched palm.

"From Lady Villius, she sent me here to assist you in your studies. Presumably because my knowledge of Elvhen magic is extensive and could offer new insight."

He hesitated for a moment before bowing low.

"Lord Pavus, my names is-" He stumbled before recovering quickly "I go by Lavellan. Should you wish to address me as something other than such, I will oblige. I am honored to serve you, Lady Villius has spoken of you in high regard. I hope I do not disappoint." Lavellan kept his position until Dorian cleared his throat.

"I welcome the help Lavellan." He hummed appreciatively, the word sounding so foreign but faintly sweet in his mouth. " I apologize I have never had a-"

"Slave?"

"Ah…yes. My family has, as you well know, but never I."

The elf grinned, and motioned to the desk across the room. "I shall be your first then. Shall we begin? I believe that I have knowledge of a dispell enchantment which may perk your interest." Lavellan gracefully made his way over to the corner dedicated to his Lord's studying and stood beside the chair, motioning for him to sit.

Well, Dorian chided as he paced himself making sure each stride oozed precision and confidence, there is always a first for everything.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter summary: Lavellan becomes acquainted with Magister Alexius as well as another slave who reveals to him how privileged he has been thus far._

_Chapter warnings: Mentions of substance abuse as well as starvation_

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><p>"Lord Pavus, my sincerest apologies on interrupting your studies, but I must inform you that Magister Alexius has arrived and requests your presence immediately."<p>

Lavellan nodded and made a noise of agreement at the frantic waving of Dorian's hands as he roused himself from his slumber, quickly delving into his cabinetry for a fresh pair of robes. "I understand and will let him know." The elven man shut the door to give his lord privacy when the Tevinter started to discard his night clothes, running possible lies over in his head.

Turning to the other man waiting in the hallway, he bowed and offered a regretful smile. "Master Pavus wishes to send his acceptance of Lady Villius' grand ball before he is to entertain you. It shall not be but a moment. In the meantime I will gladly keep you company, Magister Alexius." A foreign hand cupped his cheek and proceeded to pat at his skin in a manner far too personal for two people whom had just met.

The action almost dulled the smile, but the ever present reminder that this was all part of _The Game_ prevented the expression from dissolving entirely.

"How kind of you, child. Dorian is lucky to have someone, such as yourself, to dote on him. I imagine he has _flourished_ under your care."

The phrase made Lavellan furrow his brow but he did not dare ask what the older man implied, giving a gesture to the parlor adjacent from their position.

"He is quite satisfied with my performance thus far. Though I must admit that while I am here to provide for him, I have learned a great deal from Lord Pavus."

The foreboding leer in the Magister's eyes had him on edge. Perhaps they were not speaking on terms of Arcane knowledge like he had first assumed. He tucked this away for later, a warning to always be mindful of hidden implications, and led the man into the parlor.

Gereon Alexuis lounged elegantly and bid him to pour him a glass of Antivan brandy. The flippant gesture had Lavellan grinding his molars in frustration. He was no common servant and yet here he was filling a chalice for a man whose gaze seemed to bypass his clothing. He offered the partially filled glass to Alexius, giving a small bow as he did so.

"He will not keep you waiting much longer, I assure you. Ravens can be rather finicky, as I am sure you are aware."

"Yes, child. I am aware, but I must admit that your company exceeds all _assumptions_. When I had first heard news of your gifting to Dorian, I believed that you would be returned within the day. I am glad he saw your worth. For if he had not done such, _I would have gladly taken you off his hands_."The innuendo was almost too thick to swallow.

It welled in his throat and seeped into his lungs as if replacing the air. He hoped his master would arrive soon, for although he was adept at playing _The Game_, he tired of it rather quickly.

A hand caught his as he attempted to withdrawal his grasp from the chalice, fingers caressing the skin almost lewdly. "How odd for one of your people to be here, _Dalish_. Would it be too terribly _inappropriate_ to ask as to how you came to be here of all places?"

The sound of Dorian's foot falls was like a gift from the Creators.

Shaking off the Magister's grip, he offered a tight lipped smile. "_It would be_. Lord Pavus, I assume all is well?"

The man entered the room nodding and giving him a crooked smile. "Oh yes. Lady Abelia and her requests." He tsked loudly, sitting in the chair opposite Alexius.

"That woman never ceases to amaze. '_Lord Dorian, please do not draw out your response. I will be awaiting your letter with baited breath. I do so hope you enjoy my gift._' Blah blah blah. She is utterly exhausting. I should know, I myself being far too charming and full of wit to be understood by my colleges. Perhaps this is what all of you average folk feel when blessed by my presence?" The two Tevinters folded into chuckles leaving the elf standing awkwardly to the side of his master, still holding tightly to the uncorked bottle.

"Ahem, I shall make myself scarce. I do believe that the nature of Magister Alexius' information is one of grave seriousness, and so I take my leave." Lavellan corked the bottle and placed it upon the rack, giving a low bow before he quickly exited the room, feeling their gazes tracing his spine.

It was best to feign ignorance for the time being.

Safely out of earshot from the parlor, the man headed to the bathhouse where he knew a few of his fellow slaves would be.

Perhaps they could offer an insight into House Pavus. The interconnecting far too complicated at face value. Gathering up a spare set of clothes from his shared chambers, he wandered through the halls with purpose. He was determined to gain more knowledge of this family, for if he were to be helpful, it would be wise to know more of his masters. The trip to the bathhouse was not a long one, thankfully nestled just outside the main garden.

Relishing in the steam that surrounded him as well as the smell of smoldering coals, Lavellan exhaled and stretched his sore muscles. Tossing the neatly folded pile upon a bench, he shrugged off his robes and placed them on a nearby rack. Just as his hand went to release the ties of his smalls a voice caught his attention.

"You that new one? For whats-his-stache?" A finger prodded at the toned length of his side. "Not bad. But too elfy. Could see those marks from a ways!" The elven woman snickered and sidled up to him to remove her clothing. "Don't you dare breath your elfy drabble, cause I ain't listenin!" Her nose crinkled as she sniffed her armpit. "Andraste's tits, I reek."Her gaze shifted to him, and as if she just recalling something of importance, began, wiggling her brows.

"Knew it! Knew he was a tad bit sweet." She clicked her tongue and pulled off her kitchen dress. "Not complaining. World needs more of us sweets or else it'd get too bitter. Yuck. Who'd want that?" She stuck out her tongue at him before a look of realization crossed her face.

"Sera. My name that is. You?"

"I go by Lavellan."

"'_I go by_' what you on about? Ain't none of them wise arses here. No need to be all proper and shite." He just shrugged and loosened the ties on his smalls, making the woman ,who was struggling with untangling her buckled boots, screech.

"Best get _that_ away from me! I'll bite it off! Well…no. _I won't_, but others might! Never know with this lot. Skirt away from the twitchy ones. They the ones who like to nip at bits that got no business being nipped." He nodded and went around the corner to fetch a bucket to fill up an empty tub, rather surprised when she followed after him with her own bucket.

"You got problems with sharing?" She hid her mouth behind her palm as if divulging a secret but made no attempt to alter her volume. "Don't wanna wait till you're done. Plus you ain't even glanced at my tits. Figure you're sweet with it too." His mouth screwed up in a frown as he shrugged. He did not mind sharing, well accustomed to the lack of privacy.

Hefting the bucket filled to the brim with heated water, he poured it into the large tub, Sera joining him in the attempt to fill the tub as quickly as possible.

Finally satisfied with the amount of water, Sera dived in unconsciously splashing some of the water to puddle on the stone flooring. Shaking his head, Lavellan gathered up a few coals in his bucket and proceeded to dump them in.

"W-what you doing?! Trying to burn me up?!"

"Not at all. Just wanted to make sure you did not just dump out the only warm water in the tub." He slumped down and snatched up a packed pile of soap, lathering it with a bit of cloth. Sera was busy dunking her head under the water in a poor attempt to detangle her messy blonde locks. Smoothing the cloth over his skin, Lavellan scrutinized the woman currently cursing as she ripped the tangles apart forcefully.

She was an odd one.

Covered in small bunches of freckles and thin scars. Completely unaware of how small she truly was.

He reached out and soaped up her messily chopped hair. Huffing, she succumbed to allowing his fingers to carefully separate the strands.

"It's not a big deal. Just gotta cut em out if they get bad enough." Her flippant attitude dissolving when he did nothing to reply except pat her shoulder once he was complete.

"Perhaps you should tie it up. Then it will not look like a nest awaiting eggs." She elbowed him in the ribs causing him to wince and rub at the tender skin. "Shush you! Not everyone has access to gold dipped combs and pretty bobbles." her outburst had him raising an eyebrow.

"You did not bring a comb with you?"

"Shite, you are slow. Course not. Been here since….well..since a long time. Babies don't think ta grab combs." The man nodded in understanding, and tugged on the ribbon at the base of his neck, releasing his waved locks from their prison. Lavellan rubbed his scalp to ease the soreness the plait had caused him, ignoring the playful toes poking at his stomach.

"Lookit lookit. You could almost pass as a girl. You sure it's a dick? Could just be a big ol' cl-"

The splash of water going up her nose, prevented her from making further comments.

"_Surely_ this is a jest…"

Lavellan stared at the bench, his shoulders slumping with every passing moment. "Ah, they got ya.." Sera dropped her towel and tugged the gown over her head motioning for him to lace up the back which he did quickly.

"They?"

"Them twitchies." She looked as if he had a second head, before sighing and sitting on the bench.

"They're messed up. Drugs and alcohol. Take things to trade for more. It is shite, can't noone help em so they keep getting worse and worse. Next you know you stumble on one rotting in the grass." Sera's lip wobbled, her hands clenching at the skirt of her dress. "_Fucking nobles_. They don't give a rat's arse bout us. They could help. Could take em somewhere else. Let them _heal_. Let them be _better_. But they won't! Even if they're fat with it. Shitting out gold coins while their precious slaves lay out in the fields with birds pecking at em."

Lavellan placed his palm on her head reassuringly, causing her eyes to peek up at him beneath her lashes.

Her face morphed from disgust to shock. "Y-you….you're different, right? Not what they think you are?" She let out a forced bark of laughter. "Don't answer that. Just…._let me believe it_…at least for awhile." She excused herself and left him alone in the bathhouse.

Fingertips touched his cheeks hesitantly.

What had she seen?

The thought weighed on him heavily as he searched the area for a tunic to wear until he reached his room. The Creator's must have smiled on him today. Finding a clean tunic tucked in one of the crates by the door, he shrugged it on quickly. Giving himself a once over in the small reflecting glass, he twisted his body to ensure he was decent.

The tunic thankfully split into a loincloth, covering his backside and genitals but left his arms completely exposed. Trailing a hand over his bare thighs, he marveled at how weak they had become. Memories of toned and firm muscles clenching as he crouched in the mud awaiting his prey to come into the clearing. He shook the fragment away and gave the flesh a squeeze. Still toned, but not enough. This had him flexing his arms sadly, feeling the curve of his bicep.

How would his Keeper view him today? With shame and disappointment.

The thought had him vowing to start training in his free time. If not during the day, then perhaps before he rested at night.

Lavellan held his head high and began the trek back to his quarters. Perhaps the Creators could ensure that he not be discovered, so he begged them to turn the others away from his intended path.

Shemlen seemed to shame nudity and the state he was in was sure to upset them to some degree if they caught sight of him.

His luck had apparently run out, as he was confronted with both his master and his guest.

His tongue felt frozen in place, mouth drying at the sight of them when he turned the corner. He back peddled to provide enough distance so that they would not crash into one another. Bowing slightly to the gentlemen, his polite smile twitched at the edges, asking Fen'Harel to come and take him as he had forgotten to tie up his hair.

He was an utter disgrace, and the looks on the men's faces assured him that he was correct in thinking so.

Raising himself and crossing his arms across his chest to provide the slightest feeling of security, he addressed his master. "Lord Dorian, I must apologize for my state of undress. It seems that someone unknowingly took my clothing with them. I do so hope that you find my regret palpable. They same is directed at you as well, Magister Alexius." He made to leave but Dorian's raised palm, halting his movements.

"Perhaps we should install private crates with locks on them? I would hate for you to have all of your clothes unintentionally stolen, for if that happened I am sure our estate may become the hub of a rather peculiar stream of traffic. You are well aware of my _distaste_ for guests." He chided playfully, cracking a smile at Alexius.

"Do be more careful, Lavellan." Dorian comment smugly before continuing on his way, hand grasped tightly onto Gereon's robes practically pulling him along.

The eldest man's gaze made him feel a shame he had not before witnessed. Nails dug into his unclothed biceps as he hurried to his room.

Reaching the quarters, he practically launched himself at the chest, hefting the lid open he snuck a hand inside to search for his remaining clothing but his fingertips brushed the wooden bottom.

Throwing the lid open roughly, the worn hinges screeching at his abuse, he stared wide eyed at the empty container.

This could not be happening.

Not to him.

Not today.

He frantically checked under his cot, jerking as hands groped at his torso. He felt his blood boil as he turn around quickly but was met with Sera's grinning face.

"Hey!" She leaned down to whisper in his ear.

"Twitchies were trying to snatch up your goods. Managed to pry a few things from their grabby hands." She tossed a bundle at him. He caught it gratefully and voiced his thanks quickly, leaving Sera scrutinizing her nails smuggly.

"Ha! 'Nough with the kitten eyes. Put 'em on quick, or else that Alexifmus…whatever his name is gonna eat your arse."

"Eat my…" Lavellan looked at her questioningly as he shrugged one of the robes on over his tunic, he kneeling down to re-wrap his feet.

"Seen the way he was lookin. Know you saw it to. He's hungry for a taste of your sweetness." She snorted, trying to control her giggles and failing. "Lord Mustache has noticed to. That was a look of disgust if I ever saw one." Noticing his frown she waved her hands quickly.

"Not at you. At the oldie. The young master-" Sera rolled her eyes "seems to like you just fine. Guess you two are _doing it_. Right? Please say I'm right. Would sure show them no good nobles that we can have em wrapped around our finger."

Her face lit up as she quickly saw the opening

"Or maybe a fist?" She made a motion of thrusting her clutched hand through something in the air, her other hand wrapping tight around her elbow. "Like that. Got him around your fist yet?"

The blank expression on his face had her pouting.

"'Spose that would be hard to do with a pole crammed up there too, huh?"

"Sera, must you be so crude?"

"Never missed an opportunity yet!"

The man tsked and adjusted the belt. "I must be going, Da'len. Correct me if I am wrong…but should you be in the kitchen?"

"SHITE!" She spat on the floor and rushed out of the room. "Talk to ya later!" Lavellan looked at the cot longingly, wishing he could just curl up and rest.

His was already exhausted and it was only midday.

Brushing out his hair, he wrapped it up into a neat bun and tied it in place, leaving a few waves out to frame his face.

He figured he did not have much else to lose, and left to join the rest of the estate in the dining hall.

Entering the room quietly, he took his place among the back wall along with the other slaves awaiting orders. His eyes ran over their forms and his hands clenched to will away his growing anger.

A few of them were mere bones.

Their skin stretched painfully thin, leaving their bones jutting out sharply. He almost believe that if a fingertip brushed against the hard edges of their arms, it would draw blood. The others looked like they had been fed within the last day, but the movement of fingers twitching against their palms told him all he needed to know.

Sera had been right.

Lavellan leaned against the wall firmly, eyes staring at the piles of food spitefully. They sat and stuffed themselves to the brim, and asked them to watch? His mouth soured at the idea.

Dorian caught his gaze and frowned before looking at an open chair beside him. "Lavellan, join us." He almost sneered at the Tevinter, but thought better of it and raised himself to stand beside his master.

"You are saying I may have a plate?"

"Of course. You need not ask." Lavellan hummed, and stacked a plate full of goodies. The chair was pushed out the chair for him, but the elf just turned his back and crossed the room to the other slaves in order to offer up his plate to them.

The way the children scrambled to grab a handful left his arms weak. Hands shaking as he gripped the plate tightly, holding it out for them to take as much as they needed. He faintly heard noises of disapproval over his shoulder from Magister Pavus and Alexius as they made to leave, commenting on their meal being ruined.

He had assumed his master had left as well until a hand squeezed his shoulder, drawing his attention to the Tevinter.

"Would you all like to sit and join me? It would be terribly lonely to dine alone." Dorian was not looking at him, instead he was focused on addressing the malnourished slaves. Gesturing for them to take a seat, which they did so gratefully. Lavellan bit his lip roughly, willing his emotions to die down so as not to drip down his cheeks.

"Come. Join us. " Silence was all that answered Dorian, which had him speaking once more. "Now Lavellan, I understand that I am charming, but do say something. I would hate for my beauty to have rendered you mute. I do so enjoy our late night conversations."

The elf inclined his head slightly, a small quirk of his lips the only answer he could provide, and made his way over to the chair Dorian had previously indicated.

Perhaps Sera was wrong.

There was at least one noble that seemed to care.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Summary: Threats and rumors are of abundance in the Pavus Estate._

_Chapter Warning: Minor character death_

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><p>"I find it hard to believe that he arrived here just to request such a thing! Me, of all people, to join in the Venatori movement?" Dorian fumed, pacing in his quarters as he grumbled to Lavellan who was currently sitting at his desk.<p>

"Venatori..?" The elven man asked once more in order to clarify that his master was still speaking on the same subject he had been since they had finished afternoon tea.

"Are you not listening, Lavellan? Venatori. The extremist group wishing to brew chaos in every nation, even their own! The thought that Alexius would believe I would accept such an offer sickens me." The Tevinter sneered, sitting on the corner of his desk and unconsciously upsetting the sorted pile of notes that had previously been painstakingly organized.

"Ah." The elf snatched the pile and placed it on the shelf behind him carefully, crossing his legs and awaiting for the young lord to continue. "What is your opinion of the issue? You continually spout off wondrous ideas, your perspective may be a refreshing one." He prompted the elf, his eyes begging Lavellan to tell him how to approach the situation.

"Master Pavus, I am not your personal advisor." He held up a palm when Dorian made to interrupt him "But I shall give you my honest opinion on the matter." Lavellan lounged back further into the cushioned seat, resting his clasped hands in his lap. "Those that only view the world in black and white must be handled with caution. Luckily for you, I am rather adept at dealing with the grey. My Lord, you do not suit that life nor do you suit this one. Perhaps your place lies in the in-between. I would suggest rallying supporters against the Venatori and sending word to trusted informants in Antiva, Orlais, Nevarra, and Ferelden. Doing so will prevent Venatori supporters from sprouting elsewhere. To kill a tree you must cut it's branches, the leaves are its main source of life. Do not allow them to open and face the sun." Lavellan excused himself and made to leave the room before Dorian halted him.

"Do you honestly believe that I can do such things on my own? I am well aware that I am capable of much, but this seems to be overreaching even for one such as I."

"Fear is a good thing, it will make you cautious. I would be far more worried if you did not question yourself." Dorian let out a noise of frustration, raising himself from his perch.

"Am I to assume that means you believe I will be successful in these endeavors?"

"I…Lord Pavus, it is not what _I_ think that matters. If you truly believe that a wound will fester, then it will do so. If you wish it to heal, it will sew itself shut. I can not offer what you seek in yourself." Lavellan flicked his eyes to the door longingly, he did not wish to continue the conversation further.

He said what needed to be said.

He gave the push Dorian was desperate for, but now the man wanted more.

A guarantee.

Lavellan could not promise the man anything, the rest was up to him. So he left without another word, ignoring the usually composed man fumbling behind him.

Sera could offer him further information.

She had connections in the so called Red Jennys, perhaps even word on Venatori movements.

He paced himself, trying to make it to her quarters as quickly as possible, in order to put distance between himself and the other man. However, just as he went to open the door to Sera's chambers, Dorian seized his exposed forearm and spun him around.

"We must discuss this issue further, Lavellan. You know damned well I can not go to my father for such matters, nor Felix." The grip on him lingered a few moment before hastily pulling away. "I know for sure that you will not betray me. You are sworn to secrecy as well as to serve my will."

The look on the taller man's face was full of regret as the words slipped past his teeth only vanishing when the elf waved his hand as if to physically banish the emotion. "No need to be apologetic. You speak the truth. I-" He trailed off weighing his options in his mind, before motioning the Tevinter to follow. "I was going to meet with a friend. She may have information for us, but more than likely only burnt pies".

Sera was going to kill him for bringing Dorian along with him, and he thankfully was prepared for her assault when he ducked into the room and to the left to dodge what looked to have been a rather brutal knee to the groin, if Dorian's keeled over position was any indication.

"Shite! Why you dodge it, Elfy? Not man 'nough to have your jewels cracked?" She patted her knee threateningly, before curtsying rather poorly in the Tevinter's direction.

"Sorry and shite. Was not aimin' fer you, if that makes it feel better."

A pitiful groan answered her.

"Yeah, thought as much." Sera made a cutthroat motion at the other elf slowly. "You is so dead." Lavellan sighed and knelt to soothe a hand down the quivering man's back.

"My apologies, Lord Pavus. I should have warned you of Sera, she tends to be rather...feral."

"Feral? Me? How dare-"

"Sera"

The look the elf shot her had her snapping her mouth together with an audible clack of teeth. The silence allowed him to help the man up to a standing position carefully, repeating a stream of apologies.

"Yes yes. You are sorry, I understand." Dorian rubbed at the groin of his breeches, wincing at the ache that threatened to flare up further. "You have immense leg strength. Sera, was it?"

"Yup. Now listen 'ere, Lord Busted Balls, I request lashing. But-" She pointed at the human roughly "I get to pick the switch. None of that whip stuff. Ain't in to that whole blistered back business."

"I will do no such thing. These robes are far too expensive to be splattered with your bits. Plus blood is rather difficult to scrub from velvet. Believe me when I say it was a travesty to have to burn the paired cloak. I still have nightmares. Maybe instead of ruining my apparel, I will just alter your form into a newt." Dorian wiggled his fingers at her, causing the elven woman to snort and shove his hands away.

"Nuh uh! You best not. Don't want to be no dumb lizard, good for nothing but hiding in bedrolls. Plus yer lyin', blood comes out. Seen it done with a bottle of ale!"

"Now I must be the one to announce that such claims exist only as a farce. Never have I heard of doing such a thing."

"Prolly cause you big ones up top just let that shite sit on shelves and get old. Who wants to drink something old enough to be a granny? Burn up your insides, it will!" The two snickered leaving Lavellan rubbing at his temples.

He had not expected this to go so well, and while it was a pleasant turn of events, they had other matters to attend to. Mainly prying Sera for information. "Sera, have you heard anything from your contacts recently? Anything suspicious?"

Sera shot him a glare and side eyed Dorian who looked rather curious as well.

"Maybe. Well. Yes. Wait. No." She pouted and crossed her arms in front of her breasts. "Depends what kind of 'spicous."

"The Venatori. Or perhaps a group of Tevinters being not where they should." Dorian interrupted, drawing the woman's attention.

"Whispers bout em in Redcliffe. Somethin' bout…somethin'." Lavellan let out an exhausted sigh, falling back to sit on Sera's bed.

"Not my fault you two sneakin' round! Could maybe ask for more claryfornation-"

"Clarification?" Dorian offered which made Sera scrunch up her face.

"Yeah, whatever. But if I'm gonna do it-"

"Sera please."

"Nuh uh. You want what I gots, and you gotta pay." She rubbed her fingertips together. "Whatever it is that you want, I will see to it that your requests are met." The human assured her, but that did nothing to calm her nervous expression.

"Want you to let Aggie go, put her up someplace pretty. She's fit to burst! It's not right to make her work with two uns" She made a motion with her hand over her abdomen. "Due any day, and she still cookin' fer you lot. Not right to do that."

The noble seemed floored at her request, expecting her to ask for money or perhaps better quarters. He wanted to comment as her her for further information, but settled for nodding numbly, accepting her terms.

Sera's face brightened at this and she spat on her hand, offering it out to him.

"Best keep your word." Dorian grimaced as he spat on his own gloved hand before clasping their hands together, giving a firm squeeze. "You have my word, Sera. Now when can I expect the information?"

"Soon as Aggie has her feet up in her new house." He gave a fleeting look to Lavellan before parting ways with the elves. "I will see to it that an adequate plot of land is secured for her."

Once he was gone, Lavellan knocked shoulders with Sera.

"Ugh, what you want with that piss lickin' grin?"

"I am proud of you. Agatha will be thrilled."

"Yeah well, figure if no one is gonna step up, best be me right? I mean, I plan things outside this hell hole, why not inside?"

Lavellan ruffled her hair affectionately. "I am glad you decided to do so."

"Eww. Go be glad elsewhere. Tired of seein' yer dumb arse." Sera looked to the side, both dismissing him from her chambers and successfully hiding her flustered face from his view.

"Surprisingly, You can actually be cute if I squint hard enough." He shut the door quickly on his exit, wincing as what sounded like a boot cracked against the wall.

The elf turned to make his way down the hall but skidded to a stop when he saw Magister Pavus waiting for him. Lavellan bowed low to the man, hoping he would not be chastised for not noticing him sooner.

"Raise your gaze, _boy_. I must discuss a personal matter with you." If that was not to be considered foreboding, he did not know what was.

Gathering up his courage he simply nodded and followed the Magister to his private study.

Cautiously entering the room, the elf stood nervously at the door, his intuition was screaming at him to run but his mind refused to do so.

Dorian was correct.

He had been bound to serve, and he was never one to go against duty. Setting his shoulders in a straight line, he waited patiently for the man to take his place behind the ornate desk.

"Come and sit." Lavellan obeyed quickly, sitting on the edge of his seat in a show of rapt attention.

"Magister Alexius has showed interest in you, _boy_." The man spat the nickname like it was a slur.

"He is a dear friend of mine, and while I recognize that you were originally given to Dorian, I believe that you would be more beneficial elsewhere." Hands twisted at the fabric of his robes, anxiously waiting for the human to continue. "Luckily for you, my son would surely pitch a fit if I were to simply give you to Alexius." His eyes roamed over the elf in thought, placing his chin in an upturned palm. "Speaking of my son, I have heard rumors about your relationship with Dorian."

Lavellan's eyes went wide.

_Relationship?_

There was no such thing between them. Budding friendship perhaps, but a relationship? He shook his head quickly and opened his mouth to deny and dispel the rumors. "Dorian's matters are my matters, _boy_. Any rumors which affect our House negatively, will be on your head."

The human raised himself to walk around the desk to stand directly in front of him. "It would be such a pity for a pretty head to be cleaved from your shoulders, but sacrifices must be made to protect our name. I will make good on my promises, _knife-ear_. _Do not dare doubt that_. Away with you. The sight of such degradation in your genes has sickened me."

The elf raised himself, smoothing the fabric of his robe before exiting as confidently as physically possible.

Lavellan kept walking until he reached the far corner of the garden, wilting behind the shrubbery. Knees rested in the dirt as he pressed his sweat slicked forehead to the grass.

He was not going to survive this.

He knew that far too well now, reaching a shaking hand up to encircle his neck. The thought of his skin splitting in the path of an axe made his innards sink in his abdomen and his fingers quake.

All of this because a man was afraid of rumors?

He was just beginning to realize how petty humans could be when ants began to bite at his ankles.

"Emma shem'nan!" A fist sunk into the anthill and let out a pulse of electricity killing the insects deep beneath the earth.

"And here I believed only children did such things. I suppose one learns new things each day." Dorian chastised him, leaning his weight on the shrubs and peering down at the elf in amusement.

Humiliation colored his cheeks as he sat back on his haunches. "Lord Pavus, I apologize for my immature display of frustration." The Tevinter hummed in appreciation, and offered a hand to help him up from his position. Taking the hand in a firm grip, Lavellan stood and bowed slightly to the man. The corners of Dorian's eyes crinkled in further glee.

"While I do appreciate such worship, especially from a man whom is on par with myself, I grow tired of '_Lord Pavus_' and the bowing. Now if you were to praise my every step while upon your knees, I will not object in the slightest."

The unsure expression on the elf's face had the human bursting with raucous laughter.

"It appears like you have lost your sense of humor within the past hour." The laughter died down eventually, leaving Dorian chiding him playfully.

"Come on now, Lavellan. You are hiding something, and it wounds me that you do not seek me out to ease your pain."

"Your father has alerted me that there are rumors which state we are intimate."

"Ah."

The human pressed his lips together tightly, folding his arms across his chest. "Do such rumors bother you?"

"No. Then again, I suppose I do not have much to lose in such a circumstance."

A nod in agreement was his answer "Very wel-"

"What does trouble me, is that your father has threatened me with death if I do not find a way to cease these rumors from spreading outside the Estate. Shall I fail, it appears that beheading will be my punishment."

Dorian's whole demeanor changed.

One second he was content, the next he was practically seething a hole in the ground.

"How dare he! I must speak with him. I will not tolerate such attitudes towards my friend!" Lavellan's shocked expression must have alerted Dorian that he had said something wrong, because the next moment his face reflected his inner turmoil.

"You consider me a friend?"

"I…suppose I do." He answered lamely, rubbing at his neck in a motion to ease his anxiety.

Lavellan reached out to pat the other on the shoulder firmly, giving a reassuring squeeze.

"I am happy to hear the you place such trust in me, ma Falon. While I appreciate your will to protect me from such punishment, I alone must deal with this. Should I need help, you will be the first to know." Giving one last squeeze to the man's shoulder he gestured back to the Estate.

"In other news, I sorted through your notes and have found a troubling detail which I believe may be a miscalculation. Or rather mistranslated. Shall I show it to you?"

"Surely such a mistake was not on my part, you know well enough that I offer naught but perfection."

"Yes Lor-Dorian. I have been made well aware of your long list of skills."

"Ah yes. _Now_ say it all breathless. Like a sigh to the Maker, thanking him for creating such a perfect example of the human form." A well timed bump against his hip, had Dorian's smug grin faltering as he stumbled over his own feet.

"And here I thought we were becoming pals." He called over his shoulder after regaining his balance, before a sole raised finger was shoved into his face.

"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. What will people say if you begin to act so vulgar in public?"

"You are the one wh-"

"Ah, I am sorry but I can not hear you! You must learn to refrain from whispering, Lavellan!" Dorian hurried up the stairs to his quarters, coming to a rest in his chair.

Dorian sunk down into the plush pillows, and motioned for the panting elf to show him the error. The shorter man cursed under his breath, shutting the door firmly as he approached the desk to thumb through the papers. "You are exhausting." Lavellan complained, stuffing a rolled piece of parchment into Dorian's awaiting hands.

"I aim to please, my friend." The elf reached out and flicked the human's forehead. "Hush." He pointed to the parchment and raised a leg to sit on the edge of the desk.

"I believe the meaning of this has been construed wrongly." His fingers traced the ink tenderly. "This here is an account from a man whom claims to have come across one of the First Magisters. Something about venturing into the golden city? No doubt a farce." Dorian snatched the paper quickly, bringing it to his face to scrutinize the account for himself. He re-read the parchment over and over before setting it on the desk, his brow furrowed.

Surely it was a false account from a drunkard. Nothing more, and yet something was telling him to investigate further. It could not possibly hurt to send a few letters to locate the man.

He snatched a few blank sheets of vellum and began scripting his requests in ink.

Lavellan grew tired of watching Dorian's hand move listlessly across the pages and so he wandered over to the far window, cursing as a raven narrowly avoided hitting him as it flew into the room.

Reaching out an arm to the raven, the bird quickly claimed it as a perch, giving the elf enough time to relinquish the message tied about the raven's leg. He lowered his arm and the raven went to perch elsewhere, leaving Lavellan staring at the letter curiously.

"Dorian, may I open this?"

"By all means, do as you like." Was the automatic reply.

Shrugging his shoulders, he tore open the seal and carefully unfolded the parchment.

"Dorian!" He frantically waved the message in the air, drawing the man's attention as well as a raised eyebrow.

"Good news, I assume?"

"Agatha! The house for Agatha!" He babbled in elven, handing the letter over to the Tevinter, barely containing his excitement. The other man's mouth stretched into a grin, and he stood adjusting his robes smugly.

"Shall we go let her know? I am sure Sera will be frothing with enthusiasm." Levallan nodded and they exited the room quickly, making their way down the servant's staircase in order to reach the kitchen in the shortest amount of time possible.

The further they descended, the more anxious Lavellan became. It was usually bustling with activity. The sound of laughter and singing echoing up the staircase and into the halls, yet this time all was silent.

"Dorian.." The look on his face must have spoke volumes, because the Tevinter seemed to notice his hesitance, slowing their pace to an unsure crawl.

"Something is wrong."

It was an obvious statement, one Dorian would have mocked in any other circumstance, but silence unnerved him far more than it should, effectively sealing his lips and preventing any sort of vocal response.

Reaching the last stair, they pushed into the kitchen to see it empty except for Sera, who sat upon the counter swinging her legs absent-mindedly.

"Sera…?" She tilted her head to the sound, revealing her tear streaked face. "It ain't right, Elfy…" She trailed off, squeezing the edge of the counter forcefully.

Lavellan's shoulders seemed to break at the phrase, he made his way over to hold onto his fellow elf tightly, crumpling against her as she hid her face against his neck.

"Da'len…I am sorry." He cooed, rocking her gently as she choked up into sobs.

Dorian stood on the outskirts with his head hanging low, unsure of how to express his grief. He intertwined his fingers and gazed at the floor sadly. Why had he not been alerted? Why had they forgone notifying him? The questions only falling silent when the woman spoke up.

"C-come 'ere, you stupid." Sera hiccuped and opened an arm out to him. He faltered, before backing away. He was not meant to be here. This was a private matter and he had no right to force them to accept his presence. Least of all now.

Meeting Lavellan's sorrow filled gaze, Dorian wrapped his arms tight around himself, as if to shield himself from an incoming blow.

The sound of Lavellan mumbling what he assumed were foreign comforts, left him fumbling for the latch on the door.

This was his fault. Had he not dallied, perhaps she would be alive. Had he ordered her to spend the day resting, they might not be in this situation.

He had so many options and yet he ignored his moral obligation in favor of getting his information as quickly as possible.

Dorian bit his lip to stifle his own despair that welled behind his eyelids but the voice that called out to him bid dam to break.

"Do not blame yourself. This was not the result of your actions."

Dorian squeezed his eyes shut, resting his forehead against the wooden grain of the door.

If only he believed those words.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter summary: Stumbling upon something he shouldn't have seen, Lavellan questions his knowledge of human customs and behaviors._

_Warnings: contains implied sexual content_

* * *

><p>The funeral occurred later that week.<p>

Dorian had refused to attend, which left only Sera and Lavellan standing on the far reaches of the small crowd.

It was a quiet affair, no one willing to vocalize their grief for fear of breaking down. Heads bowed and hands clasped tightly, they approached one by one to gaze at the woman's body and offer small tokens that they prayed she would receive on the other side. Sera waited until the crowd dispersed, leaving only a few of the men left who were there to cover the body once the service had ended.

She approached cautiously on stiff legs, kneeling down to peek into the hole.

"Aggie woulda made a good mom."

Lavellan nodded and knelt beside her, touching his forehead to the moist dirt. "_Ar lasa mala revas, ma Falon. Lathanvir, guide them with a gentle hand for they no longer feel pain_." Raising his head he dropped a small pouch of Arbors Blessing into the hole, gazing sadly at the two small bundles wrapped under each of the dead woman's arms.

"It was nice..? What you said?"

"Ah…Yes. " Lavellan squeezed Sera's hand briefly before standing up to dust himself off.

"Good." Sera snatched the crumpled flower from behind her ear and let if fall from her fingertips and onto the bodies nestled in the earth. "They deserved better." He helped the woman up when she motioned him to take her arm.

"Best be on my way. Not even a moment to morn, and they snapping their whips to get us to work." Sera made to leave but paused and spun around on her heel, jerking her head up to the third floor of the estate. "It ain't his fault, tell 'im that." The corners of her lips curled in a forced smile before she trudged off in the direction of the kitchen.

The sound of the dirt refilling the pock in the earth propelled him forward on his way to the library. He wished to gather a few tomes for Dorian before returning to the man, hopefully taking both their minds off of Agatha.

Fingers brushed over leather spines, as Lavellan searched for something called _Swords and Shields_. Sera had commented on it and being that she was rarely one to read, he figured he might as well see what it was about.

Exhaling in frustration, Lavellan tucked a stray lock behind his pointed ear. Maybe they did not have a copy. If Sera had her nose stuffed between the pages and was snickering instead of whining, surely that meant it was entertaining.

Scanning the covers once more, he paused when the sound of rustling fabrics alerted him to another's presence.

Brightening up at the prospect of asking the newcomer on whether they knew where the book was located, the elven man started toward the front of the library. Perhaps they could even offer advice on how to find information on Necromancy. Dorian had mentioned that he frequently dabbled in doing such magics, maybe it would improve the man's mood if he brought him more information on the topic.

Reaching the third aisle, he went to call to the person.

Or rather people.

Lavellan quickly back tracked, ducking behind the pillar of shelving. He grimaced, pressing his shoulder blades back against the varnished wood. The man figured such a thing happened, but to witness such an act committed where anyone could walk in was unfathomable to him. Such things were done in a safe and secure location, _not in public_.

Lavellan sighed and started back to the aisle he had been in previously when a moan made his legs go numb.

Whipping around, narrowly smacking himself in the face with his braid, he peeked around the corner to confirm what his ears had heard.

The two forms proved his hearing to be correct, he would have felt smug at such an accomplishment but instead he felt ashamed. He should not be witnessing such affection shared between the two.

Especially not when his master was one of them.

Dorian's hand was tangled in the other man's short blonde locks, gripping them firmly as the slightly familiar man fumbled with the mage's robes to gain access to his smalls. _Oh_. Lavellan squinted at the man, specifically focusing on the fur covered pauldrons. The man had been there earlier that week, riding in behind the neat rows of armed soldiers as they marched the streets in a show of their power. His mind failed him when he went to recall the name, which frustrated him further as he remembered quite a few women waving favors for him to grasp as he passed. While any other man would have snatched them readily, the officer had rubbed the nape of his neck and turned them down with a smile.

Dorian must have spoken for him.

The elf turned his gaze away quickly when he noticed the kneeled man tugging down the last bit of cloth keeping his master decent. Shrinking further from the scene when Dorian groaned the man's name.

_Cullen_

The word sounded bitter as he spoke it mentally. Why had Dorian not told him he had a partner? Better yet, how had he not noticed that such a relationship existed when he had been by the Tevinter's side constantly since Agatha passed. Sera had not even made a witty remark about such a relationship, and she was rather perceptive when it came to secrets.

An affair then?

Lavellan picked up his pace to put as much distance between the two as possible. He cursed his sensitive hearing as he reached the far corner of the room, clasping his hands over his ears to muddle the sound of shifting armor and sighs of pleasure. Fumbling for the latch on the back door to the private staircase, Lavellan thanked the Creators when the door finally creaked open allowing him to slip through when the sounds of slapping flesh started.

He sunk to the floor in relief, grateful that he could no longer hear the sounds of ecstasy, resting his head back on the door he stared at the ceiling before jerking up from his position.

_He had forgotten his books._

The elf stared at the doorway before slowly descending the stairs, he supposed he did not need to cheer up his master after all. From the way it sounded, Cullen was doing a far better job at making Dorian forget his woe than a few dust covered books ever could. Lavellan stared down at his exposed toes and bit the inside of his cheek.

_Jealousy?_

_Spite?_

The fact that he was feeling such emotions had him fleeing in the opposite direction of the library.

He had no right to feel such possessiveness over his master.

Over his friend.

Reaching Dorian's chambers, he entered quickly and began sorting through the pile of disorganized notes and letters to keep his mind from wandering to the scene he had just witnessed.

Sera's connection to the Red Jenny's had luckily pulled through for them, providing information that a few Tevinters were currently being imprisoned for attempting to assassinate the King of Ferelden when he visited Arl Teagan Guerrin at his castle in Redcliffe. Lavellan hummed as he tapped the tall stack of paperwork on the table. The best course of action for them to take would be to request a copy of the interrogations that were sure to occur.

A knock on the door startled him, leaving Lavellan glaring up at a grinning Sera. "Ha! You 'bout touched the ceilin'! Brought you two…or well you somethin'." She frowned as she set a basket on the desk, placing her hands on her hips.

"Lord Stache is…?"

"Elsewhere."

"Oh _Elsewhere_. Been there once. Wasn't much fun." She snorted, still scowling.

"Thought you two usually took tea at this time."

"He is taking it _elsewhere_."

"Where _elsewhere_?" Lavellan shrugged and lifted the bit of cloth covering the contents of the basket.

"What are they?"

Sera slapped him against the arm roughly. "Cookies! If ya don't want 'em just say. I can give 'em to someone who 'preciates me."

"Da'len, I appreciate you."

"Yeah? Then eat. I know they're shite, but no wasting. Made 'em myself." Levallan picked up the malformed lump and took a cautious bite.

"You're right. They are shit."

Sera snickered and flicked him on the nose. "Arse! You coulda lied!"

"You would have called my bluff even if I did."

"Yeah, bu-"

The door opened to reveal a rumpled Dorian, clearly not expecting the two elves to be in his quarters.

Sera's eyes roamed over him before her brows shot up knowingly.

"Ah. You really were taking it elsewhere.". She slapped a hand over her mouth at the look the Tevinter shot her and sped out of the room while calling over her shoulder

"Tell me what happens later, Elfy!".

Lavellan gathered up a few sheets of parchment along with a few books and made to leave. "Excuse me, Master Pavus. I will take my leave in order to give you privacy."

"Correct me if I am wrong Lavellan, but I assume that you were in the library this afternoon?"

Was it best to be honest?

Siding with his intuition, he gave a bob of his head. "Yes, Master Pavus. I was searching for a book that Sera had recommended."

"Did you witness anything…out of the ordinary?"

Lavellan paused. He was unaware if what he saw was uncommon.

Should he ask Dorian on his relationship with the officer?

Would doing so be inappropriate in human culture?

"No…?" He answered hesitantly, watching the expression on Dorian's face change. So he said what Dorian had wanted to hear then? The man certainly looked relieved.

"Very well. Do be back shortly, I wish to see what you have accomplished while we have been apart."

Calmly walking out of the chambers, Lavellan shut the door before sprinting down the hall cursing himself with every step. He threw his armful of items on his bed and dug in his chest, relinquishing a stack of notes he had written a few days ago. If luck was on his side, Dorian would not notice. The elf took a deep breath before heading back to his Master's chambers.

Please let luck be on his side.

If Lavellan was to be completely honest with himself, he was rather shocked at how little he knew of humans.

He knew they were different.

_Exotic_

Yet they seemed to gaze at _him_ as if he were a rare caged bird. They seemed oblivious to their own minority, unaware of the clans that ran free between the trees of every forest in Thedas. Of the dwarves deep beneath the earth flourishing. Of the Qunari thriving and growing. Humans seemed to be rather content in their ignorance.

This new knowledge frightened him.

Humans were in a position of power.

They controlled things they could not even begin to understand the consequences of.

This fear is what had him educating Dorian on Elven culture. Hoping that while an average noble may dismiss his attempts, a pariah would readily listen to what he had to offer them. He was not at all surprised by Dorian's willingness to learn. Master Pavus, was after-all, a scholar. He soaked up every book he laid his hands on and always seemed to thirst for more.

Currently, Lavellan was informing Dorian of Eluvians, which immediately caught the Tevinter's attention.

"You are asking me to believe that you can walk through a mirror and into the Fade?"

Lavellan rolled his eyes, crossing his legs as he sat on the desk. "No. Once again, when someone crosses through the Eluvian, they enter the _in-between_. The in-between is where the mirrors connect, allowing one to enter one and exit another. Though the Fade is thin there, so I suppose with enough will one may pass between the Veil, but that is not its intended, ma Falon."

Dorian inclined his head, leaning back into his chair to question the man in front of him further. "That means what exactly? I hear you use it often and you have never explained its definition. It is rather tiresome to assume it as a compliment when, for all I know, you could be cursing me."

The elf raised up an eyebrow, his face unamused. "Is that what you wish of me? If you want a curse I can give you one." He wiggled his fingers and started to mumble under his breath causing Dorian to playfully push his hands away.

"Lavellan. Do not make me order you, I've yet to resort to doing so." He smirked smugly when the elf rolled his eyes.

"What makes you believe that I would follow your orders, _Master_." Levallan quipped.

Dorian grinned knowingly.

The elf sighed and grasped his arm gently, pulling him from the chair. "Come along, ma Fa-...my friend. It is late and it appears that whether you like it or not, you must rest. The tailor will be here in the morning to fit you for your-" He waved his hand fumbling for the word. "-outfit..?" Lavellan directed Dorian to the bed, pushing his shoulders down to force the Tevinter to sit on the edge of the bed.

The elf gazed at the door wishfully before kneeling and unlacing the man's boots. "I do not understand why you require such attention. You are a man well capable of caring for himself."

"I must admit that I require such a task from you simply because I enjoy the view." Lavellan's hands twitched at his words. Raising a hand up to Dorian's shoulder, he shoved the man back, causing the Lord to half lay on the grand piece of furniture.

"Hush. Let me work so that I can retire to my own chambers. I still have work that needs to be completed."

"Why must you injure me so?" Dorian sighed dramatically, propping himself on his elbows so that he can watch the other man.

"Because a child must be taught with a firm hand."

"I could use a firm hand."

"….Sera would be proud. If only she were her instead of I." Lavellan rolled his eyes, setting both of the boots aside and then reached for the man's arm bracers.

"Why has this duty been assigned to me? Was there not a lovely little old lady that used to dress you?"

"Yes, but Catherine is not as gentle as you, _my friend_."

Dorian winced when the elf intentionally pinched his flesh while unbuckling the leather. "_You are awful_." Lavellan just grinned and laid the bracers on the nightstand, delving a hand into its drawer to pull out the human's night clothes.

"There. The rest is up to you, Lord Pavus. I must attend to my night duties."

"Lavellan, you could stay if you wished to."

Lips pressed together tightly as the elf hesitated, trying to decide on whether he should stand from his kneeling position. "That would be unwise."

"Yes. It _would_ be." Dorian answered quickly as if he had expected him to object. "But should you simply say the word, you could stay, regardless of how _unwise_ it may be."

Lavellan groaned and rubbed the back of his neck roughly. "Dorian. I respect your relationship with Officer Cullen. Plu-" Dorian raised a finger to pause him, looking bewildered.

"Relationship?"

"We had this conversation earlier, _do you not remember_?"

"Lavellan, you told me that you had not seen anything out of the ordinary."

"I had assumed your affair was reoccurring. Was that wrong to do so?"

Dorian carded a hand through his hair, sighing and stared at the canopy of his bed. "There is no 'relationship'. It was just sex between acquaintances."

"Ah." The elf nodded and placed a hand on Dorian's knee in reassurance. "Do not feel like you must explain yourself to me, ma Falon. I do not mind. Sex is not as taboo for the Dalish. There is no shame in enjoying ones own body, nor abstaining from such physical pleasures if one should wish to do so. It is rather ridiculous how you humans shy from the topic."

He had not been expecting that.

The Tevinter frowned in confusion. "Why is it that this is the first time I am hearing such things? I thought the Dalish to be prudes."

Lavellan covered his mouth as he chuckled. "It is to prevent your humans from asking questions. It also prevents mixing with the other races. If you believe one despises sex you are less likely to ask them for it." The elf shrugged, eyeing the other man curiously. "Though our sex may be different that your's."

Now that sparked Dorian's curiosity, he sat up covering the Dalish's hand with his own.

"How exactly does it differ? Do not be afraid to go into great detail, _this is your chance to be scandalous_."

Lavellan wiggled his captured hand experimentally, before scooting closer in between the man's parted legs.

"_Well first we strip ourselves nude. Then once we prepare ourselves-_"

He leaned in as if he was whispering a secret into Dorian's ear.

"-we run around in circles in the woods. Dancing and singing as we jump over huge fires. We also twirl around and then attempt to walk in a straight line. The first one to do so is crowned leader of all the Dalish for a year. They get to wear a necklace of copper marigolds a-and!" Lavellan burst into giggles, unable to hold in his laughter any longer.

Dorian looked as if he had smelled something sour. "My apologies, I could not let such an opportunity pass me by."

The elf stood, tucking his hands into the pockets of his robes. "I would be lying if I claimed I never thought about participating in activities with you, ma Falon. But I must decline. My custom requires partners to be on equal ground, and unfortunately that is not such between us Dorian." Lavellan cupped the man's cheek affectionately, pinching it lightly. "Go to sleep, my friend. I will see you in the morning."

"_Andraste, what have I done to displease you so?_" Dorian groaned as the covers were ripped from his hold, peering over his shoulder to glare at the elf.

"Not Andraste. It's _Lavellan_, remember?"

Smart Ass.

Dorian reluctantly sat up and motioned the man over to start dressing him. The elf rolled his eyes and grabbed the hem of the Tevinter's shirt, pulling it over his head roughly.

"You appear to have gotten dressed last night by yourself." Dorian tsked and stayed silent as the man shoved a pair of breeches in his face.

"Why did I not keep Catherine? She was never rough. Nor cruel. What would your Keeper say?"

"She would most likely praise me for treating a Tevinter in such a way. Here." He helped the man into his robes, sliding the clasps through the holes quickly.

"There. The tailor will be here shortly."

"Is there a reason as to why this must be done at such and atrocious hour?" Dorain peered into the mirror and adjusted a few stray locks of hair, once satisfied he twirled the ends of his mustache in order to rejuvenate its curl.

"Yes, according to the letters which you never read, the ball is at the end of the month. Nobles are trying to wait till the last minute to have 'the latest styles', or so they say."

Lavellan rushed to open the door when a voice called from the hallway, bowing slightly as the woman entered. Her red hair was cropped to her chin, a single braid tucked behind her ear. She curtsied and introduced herself as Leliana, commenting on how she usually stayed in Orlais, but that this was a rather pleasant change. "I simply adore the décor, it honestly reminds me of-."

At this, Lavellan snuck out of the room and hurried down the stairway.

He was not going to stick around to hear the two of them gush about 'proper' fashion and reprimand him for not sharing the same tastes.

Sera caught up with him later on, asking if he wanted to head to the bathhouse together. Not seeing anything else to do what with Dorian and Leliana still preoccupied in his chambers, Levallan agreed and they both headed to the building after grabbing their spare clothing.

"You actually saw 'em?" Sera asked, stretching her legs out in the tub before tucking her knees up under her chin. Lavellan nodded, soaping up his hair awaiting her reply.

"Huh."

"Oh? Nothing else you wished to add?"

"No. Well…Yes. Heard some things over the years. Lord Stache never has a fuck buddy fer long. Well not the same one. Come and go. Never staying." She shrugged, squinting at him before shoving a finger at his face.

"Why? You 'is next?"

"No. He asked, but I declined."

Sera sunk in the tub, the water coming up past her chin. "Figured. But ya want it. Real bad."

Lavellan balked, rinsing his hair of the suds. "Acting solely on petty desire is unwise."

"Pfffffft. It ain't just 'desire' or whatever if ya keep thinking' 'bout it."

The man just shrugged."Regardless, I am not going to act on my emotions."

"Kinda rude makin' him do the work."

"I am not making him do anything, Sera. He is old enough and capable enough to make his decisions."

Sera sat up quickly, causing the water to slosh about. "You think he can make his own choices? Thought you said he still has people dress him."

"Yes, but-"

"But what? People need help sometimes. Can't 'spect them to be on their own forever. People do bad things when they're alone, stupid." Sera stuck out her tongue, snatching the soap from him to rub into her own hair.

"Da'len, I am not going to bed him so that he can have some consistency in his life."

"Not askin' ya to. Just…you know…hugs and shite? Like you do fer me. Hugs is so good. Sometimes all ya really need. Might be what he needs. What _you_ need." She dunked her head under the water, leaving him alone in the silence until she came up gasping for air.

_What he needs?_

"If Magister Pavus were to discover a change in our relationship-"

"Then ya get killed." Sera stated as if it were a matter of fact. "I mean that ain't so bad. Dying, I mean. Like it would prolly be quick too, so why not? No regrets and shite." Sera sunk into the tub once more, her face sorrowful. "But you best not. Else I dig you out and kill ya again."

The man made a noise of agreement and dried off, patting the towel down his legs to soak up the droplets of water.

"I would never dream of it, Da'len."

Freshly bathed and dressed, Lavellan sat on his cot as he squeezed the remaining water from his hair, contemplating the situation he had found himself in.

Surely if he were to offer such comforts to Dorian, the man would misconstrue his intentions. Should he not do anything, then more than likely Dorian would continue his hazardous behavior, possibly opening himself up to life threatening risks. Being it his duty to protect Lord Pavus, he was required to intervene but his culture had him confused as to where he should draw the line.

Simple touches were acceptable for all ranks to share. The brushing of hands, or the press of foreheads. These were simple but meaningful gestures, but should one wish to embrace another, the line fogs considerably.

The affectionate nature of such an action was not solely physical. It was an unspoken promise to accept the person wholly. To acknowledge flaws and quirks. To cherish their very being. To see them on equal standing.

Sera was one such person to which he embraced entirely.

She knew right from wrong, had strong opinions, and while she was rather simple minded at times, she was very intelligent. Shame on anyone who thought otherwise.

He could accept her easily, knew she was trustworthy and loyal but when it came to Dorian he was unsure on whether he felt the same.

The man was hiding far too many things. All cloaks and fine silks on the outside, but beneath his facade there was trouble brewing. Lavellan saw it in the way Dorian withdrew from his father's touch. How he seemed to drift from conversations as if he wished he was elsewhere. The Tevinter was a hard shell on the outside, hiding his pain with self praise and blinding wit. The only time that Dorian readily showcased his inner turmoil was in his eyes.

Always sad and searching for something _more_.

Lavellan could be _more_.

But was he destined to walk that path?

He slid to the floor, pressing his forehead to the cold stone of the ground.

_O Falon'Din, guide my feet to where they are most needed. Calm my weary soul and lead me to my fate, for I am lost without your guidance._

Lavellan could only wait and hope that the path ahead of him did not interfere with his reason for his being in Tevinter.

_"Chin up Da'len, you will endure. Do what you must to survive, but never forget your place here. You are my First, and while I wish to keep you here, your fate leads you to a far away place. A place where you can help us. Show the shemlen who they are dealing with, but remember to hide behind your mask, Da'len, for it will keep you safe from the wolves. Keep in mind that while you appear as a sheep would, the howl that grows inside you is vicious. Use it for our sake."_


	5. Chapter 5

**_Chapter summary: _****_There are always unforeseen circumstances that we are blind to._**

**_Chapter Warnings: Includes minor character death(s), depictions of violence and murder as well as mentions of physical, verbal and emotional abuse._**

* * *

><p><em>Love<em>

Dorian had read the word. Understood it's definition. Memorized it's origin. But had never seen it exist outside a novel. It was not real, only a brief idea existing to make a virginal maiden blush as they lay wishing to be swept off their feet.

_Love_

He had yet to see even a glimpse of such an emotion. He supposed that being enthralled with something could pass as love. Such as the way he enjoyed the feel of leather on his fingertips. The scent of well aged wine. The shimmer of polished buckles. But that faint feeling of want was nothing in comparison to the need the word defined.

Surely the need to hide from his mother's acidic arms was not love. To shield himself from her bitter and cruel commands. The bond they shared was a toxic one, and not one that could be summed up in such a lofty word. As for his father, the harsh open palmed strikes upon his cheeks, left him feeling that there had never been even the whisper of a bond at all. In fact, now that he was grown his father forced him into the mold further.

_Straighten your back, Dorian. Smile. Brush your lips across her knuckles. Dissolve your personality. For once, obey._

His life ensured that no such thing as love existed. Relationships were purely physical, and short lived. Perhaps only lasting a night at most. He dare not hope for more. To become needy and cling to such physical affections, for if he did then he would become sorely disappointed when things did not pan out as he would like them to.

But Dorian was decidedly selfish, he craved the touch of another, even for just a moment. The feel of skin brushing against his own flesh left him weak and confused.

To be touched in such a manner.

To be cherished and cared for with such tenderness.

It left Dorian feeling as if he had gazed upon a spark in the darkness that had enveloped his life. Never had someone touched him just to show they cared.

_No. _ _The hands upon his back usually urged him to continue. To straddle the edge of exhaustion. To not return home unless he had mastered his task._

He expected to be pushed harder, not to be suspended in this odd feeling he had no word for. The feeling only increased when Lavellan buckled the straps of leather over his arms. "Is that too tight?" His tongue felt heavy and stiff as if starched along with his cloaks. He settled for a shake of his head in favor of stumbling over a verbal response, and turned his gaze to the fleeting brushes of skin against his exposed arms as the elf tugged the bracers tighter.

This was not _that_ word either.

It was _curiosity_.

It was the act of being _enchanted_.

Never would such feelings escalate into _love_. They may evolve into _passion_. Into _bruising kisses_ and _gentle touches_, but never would they last. They would exist for but a moment, before fading into the recesses of his mind, only to emerge when he least wanted them to.

Dorian bent down to allow the elf to drape his cloak over his shoulders, righting himself once the fabric was firmly in place. He would much rather silence the want churning in his gut and continue his budding friendship, because rejection was not something he could swallow once more.

It had left him hallow in the past, dull and compliant.

He did so very much not like that Dorian.

Lavellan gave a curt bow, which signaled the Tevinter to turn to the full length mirror. He choked back the bile at the back of his throat and gave a weak grin to his friend.

"Just imagine this carved into marble."

The other man patted his shoulder reassuringly, giving the flesh a firm squeeze. "It would be a sight that I could compare no other, ma Falon."

The empty bubble of laughter that slipped passed his clench teeth left Lavellan giving him a blank expression.

"You do not wish to attend."

"It is…a far more complicated matter. One that can not be put into words what with the dwindling hours before the event. It is just something that I must accept." The taller man pressed his lips together firmly as he analyzed his reflection. "Leliana created a work of art. One fit to be matched with my own beauty."

The Dalish frowned and crossed his arms over his chest in a huff.

"Yes, yes. Dorian, your beauty has no equal." Lavellan caught his gaze and held it for but a moment before dropping his stare to the floor. "I will be at your call, Master Pavus. Should you need me…" The offer hung in the air, completed in the way the elf clenched his jaw and clasped his hands behind his back.

"I appreciate the offer, though I believe you are required to make yourself scarce, if what my father claimed was correct. If I need you, I shall find you." Dorian reassured when the man shot him a look of disdain.

"Very well. I will be at your disposal, ma Falon." Lavellan reluctantly agreed and opened the door, gesturing for the man to exit. "We must leave immediately if we are to be on time."

"These occasions actually require one to be late. It is considered a show of status. A real flash that I am far to busy to attend such an occasion and that everyone should see that I could care less if I attended or not." Dorian explained, motioning with a renewed sense of pep, something that Lavellan could not even begin to match.

"Why not ask for you to attend at a later hour? It seems trivial to ask one thing and yet expect another."

The Tevinter tsked as he descended the staircase. "It is all part of The Game. One must act above such matters to be in good graces."

"I had assumed that you did not care for gaining such favors."

Dorian's pace faltered slightly and he reached out to the railing to regain his balance. "It is…You are correct. But there are moments in which I must not act on my own preferences, no matter how much it may hurt to do so. House Pavus must continue its image of perfection. No matter the cost. My father repeated that phrase like it was a verse straight from Andraste herself. The meaning still applies to this day." He continued down the steps and out into the grand hall with Lavellan at his heels.

"Master Dorian, you should not be considered shameful."

"Lavellan, _please_. Cease this conversation. I will not entertain this train of thought further. I have a party to attend." The Tevinter shot the elf a withering glance before pushing open the large doors and coming face to face with one of his family's carriages. The driver was quick to open the small latched door and extend a hand to help the Altus into the vehicle.

Once Dorian was safely tucked inside, the driver sneered in the direction of the elf and climbed back on his perch, leaving Lavellan to scramble into the carriage by himself. Dorian reached out with a gloved hand and caught the man's forearm. Tugging him up into the carriage, the human sighed and snapped the door shut quickly.

"How appalling. His family should be ashamed at such a performance." He gave an encouraging smile to the man across to him in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"It is not as if I expected anything more." Lavellan sunk back into the cushions and tensed when the carriage jolted to a start. "I expected a smoother ride, it appears that I was mistaken."

Dorian tutted and crossed his legs, resting his folded hands over his knees. "Not all of us can be perfect. You must learn to accept one's faults. Do as I do, and just admit that no one will ever begin to compete with Dorian Pavus. It will make your life much easier."

The elf rolled his eyes and raised up the curtain over the small window, gazing at the trees passing absent mindedly. "When should we arrive?"

"If I had to guess, we will make our grand entrance in a couple of hours." The Tevinter broke out into a grin at the look the other man gave him.

"Best make yourself comfortable, my friend."

* * *

><p>A full moon cycle.<p>

28 days of hard and unrewarding work had finally reached a boiling point, and Lavellan was the one to kindle the flame.

_Doubt_

_Anger_

_Revenge_

The whispers that swirled around the slave's quarters filled his ears, urging him further. They were playing into his hand, and he silently begged Sera's forgiveness for using her in such a way as she played a major role in his plans. The woman eagerly ate from his upturned palms as if she were a starved babe mouthing for a teat. Accepting the hushed sighs that fell from his lips as if they were gold, she gathered them up and spread them amongst her peers, far too eager to please him.

Striving to have him thank her.

To show her a kindness she had been deprived of.

It sickened him that he had to play off her fears and needs, but it as Dorian claimed. One must push aside one's own wants for the majorities benefit, and Lavellan had done so many times before. Had been taught to do so from an early age, and he was not one to forsake duty simply because it may hurt someone's feelings.

He adjusted the knife tucked inside his boot and ran his hands through his hair to rid it of tangles. Satisfied with his appearance his strode into the hallway, giving the guard an obvious once over. The man's head inclined slightly in interest which only increased when the elf pushed open an adjacent door and curled a finger in a come-hither motion to which the human eagerly obliged.

There were no words that passed between them as Lavellan tugged off the man's helmet to capture the guard's mouth in a rough kiss, nose wrinkling slightly at the helmet mussed hair. The human's large hands settled on his waist in a bruising grip, the gauntlets pinching at the skin of his hips as the man's hold tightened when the elf released the straps of his chest plate.

Hands traced the tufts of hair that covered the man's chest as he worked his way to the belt of the guard's breeches. The human's hand closed around a handful of his hair and eased the elf to kneel in front of him when the buckle clattered to the floor and the human closed his eyes at the expected bliss he was sure to enter.

Seeing his chance, deft hands drew the knife and thrusted the blade deep into the spaces between the man's ribs. The gurgle from the man set a satisfied smirk on the elven man's face at the damage he had done. He withdrew the blade and jabbed it up into the guard's lung once more, twisting it slightly to collapse the organ further. The woosh of air that bubbled from the man's throat made Lavellan's tongue taste sweet where it rested behind his clenched teeth.

He shouldered the man to the floor and stood over the crumpled form. Lavellan's hands worked quickly as they undid the claps and buckles of the man's armor. Satisfied with his work, the elf stripped of his own clothing before climbing into the armor. Thankfuly the man was of slighter build than his counterparts but bulky enough to effectively hide the elf's lean frame behind the sheets of forged iron. The elf shoved the helmet onto his head to completely hide his appearance before sheathing the man's sword at his side and kneeling down to offer a prayer to Falon'Din to guide the human's soul to the beyond.

He hid the body in plain sight and entered the empty hallway. With a deep breath, Lavellan opened up the door to the noble's quarters. He glanced at the sun and quickly picked up his pace. His plans were to commence soon, and he would rather Dorian not be caught in the crossfire.

_Elgar'nan, may my actions be swift and true._

* * *

><p>To say he tired of entertaining Abelia, would be an understatement. She was dull and so entirely fake that it hurt him to even gaze in her direction. The mottled green of her dress assaulted his eyes each time he went to answer her prying questions. Thankfully he managed to escape by assuring her that he needed to rid himself of the wine he had partaken earlier. Currently he was strolling the halls on the second floor, taking note of the drab furnishings and poorly painted pieces.<p>

_All fakes_

The thought drew a snicker from him, which he covered with a cough when two puffed up ladies in extravagant gowns passed him quickly. Their eyes dragged over his form as they whispered behind their intricate fans in a poor attempt to hide the fact they were gossiping. Watching them disappear behind the corner, Dorian let out an exasperated sigh.

Where was Lavellan? The elf had assured him that he would not stray far.

Reaching the end of the hall, the Tevinter contemplated heading to the servant's quarters but the startled screaming had him jerking and whipping around to search for the location the noise had come from.

_The ballroom?_

Perhaps someone fainted. Dorian was about to brush the noise off, but the sounds grew and echoed in the empty halls. Multiple people were crying out, the sound settled in his feet and made his movements sluggish as he went to run back and see what was going on. Just as he made to pass an opened room and hand caught him and pulled him into the dark abyss.

He struggled against the hold, twisting and throwing his weight against the person to topple them both onto the ground. It was an elf whom he had seen earlier that evening serving glasses of wine to the Lords and Ladies. His stunned expression went unnoticed by the woman as she wrapped her hands around the human's throat, squeezing with all her might.

"T-Tevinter bastard!" The air caught in the man's esophagus, and he frantically moved his hands over her's, sending a blistering wave of heat over her pale fingers. Sure enough, her hold faltered, and Dorian shoved himself away to gasp for air. Raising himself up on shaky legs, the Tevinter rubbed his abused flesh and stumbled from the room, leaving the woman nursing her scorched skin.

He traversed the hall, wincing at the faint smell of smoke that seemed to permeate the air. His feet seemed to drag over the rugs as he made his way to the ballroom, peeking through the archway, the air seemed to burst out of his lungs in a shocked gasped.

Dozens of bodies laid mutilated and broken upon the once perfectly polished ceramic. The stench from the split and torn flesh made him heave and he had to turn away to vomit onto the ground. Never had he seen such brutality. It was one thing to read of death, but another entirely to see it. He wiped his mouth clumsily and swallowed the bitter taste that coated his tongue as he reluctantly entered the room.

Eyes scanned the piles in search for...what exactly? He had no idea. He saw a glimpse of mottled green amongst a lump of detached limbs to his right, the image had him turning on his heel quickly. He could not stay here a single moment longer, his gaze frantically searched for any sign of his elven friend.

"Lavellan..?" Dorian gulped down mouthfuls of air as he began to panic.

_No_

_Please no_

_Do not take my only friend from me, for I cannot bare loneliness once more_

The Tevinter made to call out but a hand clasped tightly across his mouth. "_Hush, Dorian. Do not alert them of our position_."

Lavellan turned the man to face him, moving his hands to grabs the man's cheek so he could not look elsewhere. "_Hold your tongue and_ _keep your gaze on me. Only me_." The elf soothed, and drew the man out of the ballroom carefully, keeping their eyes locked.

"_Focus. Do not dare draw your eyes from me_." Lavellan commanded, and Dorian found himself hopelessly following the man's orders.

The elf's appearance had drastically changed in the hours they had spent apart, noting the familiar armor that had been dented and the shield which sat splintered on the man's back. He caught sight of a trail of blood that trickled beneath an ajar pauldron and the missing point of the elf's left ear. Lavellan's hair once elegantly pinned was now matted with sweat, blood, and dirt yet he seemed oblivious of it all as he led Dorian out of the estate and into the side garden.

"What happened-"

"Swallow your questions for a later time. I must focus on getting you to safety. I will only say that I regret not reaching you sooner. You should not have been subjected to the carnage in the ballroom. I have failed you, Master Pavus." Lavellan made to tuck a few bloodied strands behind his ear but faltered when his fingers brushed the jagged edge of cut cartilage, wincing he dropped his hand limply to his side and motioned with his chin to the north.

"Come, I will be behind you. We must not alert the others that we live." When the human had yet to move, Lavellan placed a hand between the man's shoulder blades and began pushing him.

_"Move"_

And Dorian readily obeyed.

* * *

><p>They trekked through sludge and brambles well into the night, only stopping once Lavellan grabbed the back of Dorian's robe and lifted a hand to his unmutilated ear. All was silent for a moment before the man hummed in satisfaction.<p>

"We will camp here for tonight."

The elf went about gathering leafy materials nearby, leaving the human to stand awkwardly in the clearing. Dorian looked to the heavens that shone between the spread branches of the trees and thanked Andraste for his survival, for mild weather, and comfortable boots. He was rather thankful that Leliana had encouraged him to edge on the side of practical rather than extravagant, as he was just now feeling the whispers of ache in the arches of his soles. The human stood, eyeing the edge of the forest nervously, never had he been out in nature for such an extended period of time. He grunted as an insect buzzed beside his earlobe, swatting at the pesky creature viciously when Levallan appeared with an armful of large leaves which he piled over next to a tree.

"And that is..?" Dorian asked, rubbing the remnants of the insect on the bark of the tree.

"Your bed."

"Ah."

"It is surprisingly comfortable."

_"Ah"_

Dorian did not sound the least bit convinced which had the elf rolling his eyes. "Rest. We have a long way ahead of us tomorrow. I will take watch." Lavellan sunk down, leaning heavily against the trunk of the tree, visibly exhausted.

"You look as if you would fall asleep at any moment, and yet I am the one who must sleep?" The Tevinter sat down on the pile and shifted his weight around to get comfortable.

"You are a priority and must be protected. No matter the cost." Lavellan answered quickly, looking at the man blankly. "I will sleep when the time comes. I assure you that."

Dorian faltered at the man's gaze but he knew that no matter what he said, he could not force the elf to close his eyes. "Suit yourself, but do bare in mind that one must rest at some point." The elf made a noise of acknowledgment as he began cleaning the splattered and caked blood from the short sword. Dorian curled up beside him and dozed off into a restless sleep after a short period of time.

"Dorian?" When he received no answer, Lavellan let out a sigh of relief.

Sure of the man's slumber, Lavellan quickly threw off his gloves and armored boots, to bury his face into his clammy palms and sink his toes into the moist earth. His shoulders shook as he suppressed a sob and so he drew himself tighter, tucking his knees against his chest in an attempt to comfort himself.

This was not suppose to happen.

Everything had been planned perfectly.

They were suppose to walk out, find the guard and a spectacle was to ensue. It was not supposed to be blood bath. _One_ was to die, and yet _hundreds_ followed in the events afterwards.

What shattered him was the fact that he should have known better. Should have seen the signs of trouble brewing, but instead ignored them in order to fulfill his duty.

But this…this was not the fate he had been assigned.

He had bowed before the Creators, offered his complete loyalty in return for knowledge of his fate.

They had accepted his deal, but had he been lied to?

Had he been fooled by a wolf in sheep's clothing?

Lavellan hiccuped and brushed away the few tears that streaked through the grime on his face.

He was a fool.

A fool whose actions surely doomed thousands.

The thought threatened to dissolve him into a mess of choked sobs, so he stood up and wobbled away to give his companion some peace as he succumbed to sorrow.

Lavellan allowed himself this moment of weakness, knowing fully well that come dawn he would have to don his mask once more. The idea of it all made his teeth sour, and he cringed as he sunk down into the dirt.

What gave him the right to take advantage of others?

To manipulate them into unknowingly following his will?

_"Nothing"_ The word wheezed out between his raw lips as he looked to the stars desperately.

He needed a sign.

Something.

Anything, to show him that he was on the right path.

"Lethallin, you need only ask for guidance. I readily offer my assistance, should you choose to accept it." Levallan's gaze shifted from the stars to the elven man that materialized from the mist swirling about the treeline.

His limbs went numb and his mouth felt incredibly dry as he took in the man's humble appearance. He had to be mistaken, the events of today surely leading to this odd exhaustion induced mirage. He was not granted anymore time with his thoughts as he was jolted when his nerves were set aflame. Each step the man took as he drew closer to him,increased the aching deep within his flesh. Every pore begged for him to submit and so the Dalish elf swallowed thickly and pressed his forehead to the earth in a show of obedience and vulnerability to the man before him, the fire in his joints extinguishing at his show of reverence.

Lavellan's lips moved without being told, and the words that spilled from his tongue were not entirely his own.

"_I would be honored for your guidance to be bestowed upon someone such as I, Fen'Harel_"


End file.
